your ZEN is false
by Novocain
Summary: She could have said no. :Loosely connected to GESELLSCHAFT:
1. This is Your Fall

**your zen is false**

Chapter One

_A Beginning_

. ... .

She doesn't have all the answers. She doesn't.

Lily is sixteen years and five months old. She is beautiful and clever and popular - and she has no answers to war and the war-torn and hate and the hate-consumed.

She has no answers.

. ... .

Lily really _looks_ at Bellatrix Black - beautiful and clever and popular - for the first time during her sixth year. It is November, and the cold wind batters bitterly against the worn stone of the castle. Freezing drafts seem to follow her everywhere, and her hands are icy to the touch no matter what spell she uses.

(It is irritating. What is she a witch for if the magic doesn't help? What is she a witch for if the magic only brings problems like - no, she won't think about that.)

Her mum and dad are in danger every moment of every day - Pettie, too - and she wonders in a detached, numb, tired (tired of fear and anxiety and black-and-white Dark Marks winding their way through the stars) way if she would have said 'no' to magic and unicorns and chess pieces one could argue strategy with if she had known that it was a package deal. (Blood matters and death haunts for free, and isn't it such a lovely thing? Fine print. Fucking fine print, and she signed everything she could have been away at the tender age of eleven.) She thinks about it and decides, very firmly and intellectually, not to think about it.

Her hands are always so cold.

It is all a coincidence, really. (And isn't it funny how much those always end up mattering?) She doesn't mean to see them. She is simply searching for an isolated room where she can cage a fire; she refuses to go back to the warm common room because she knows that arrogant (sheltered, protected, pureblood) Potter git is there.

So she doesn't mean to walk in on them, but she does. The abandoned room isn't so empty after all, and she doesn't know it until she is three steps inside and listening to gasping breaths and stifled moans. Her head snaps to the windowseat of its own accord, and what Lily sees bathed in the bright grey light is more fascinating than magic and unicorns and chess pieces one can argue strategy with.

Two students. There is - the blonde is naked. She is naked and moaning and lying on the moth-eaten cushion of the window seat. Her breasts cast shadows on her taut stomach, but only until her back arches into a newly desperate angle. Her legs are locked at the ankles around the hips of the brunette standing in front of her, and Lily doesn't register why at first. She can only see the dark-haired ones back, and the uniform robes of Hogwarts lend no clue as to the person's sex. She thinks dazedly _They aren't shagging?_ because their groins aren't close enough for that, and then -

Their eyes meet in the window's reflection.

Oh. And suddenly she realizes - long black hair that doesn't belong to a traditional pureblood male, but to a girl. They stare at each other, Bellatrix's deft fingers manipulating the blonde into full-blown screams without pause, as Lily's mind stumbles over itself.

And then Bellatrix's full, pouty (sensual, bitable) lips curve into an amused smirk as she braces herself against the wall so that the blonde's jack-knifing form won't pull her over. Lily's snaps to the present immediately - and the present contains girls having sex in front of her. She jerks and starts backing away with flushed cheeks and trembling hands.

Bellatrix's reflection arches a fine-cut eyebrow at her wickedly - invitingly - and Lily whirls around and runs.

. ... .

She refuses to think on it. It isn't hard, after all. She has so many things to occupy her mind with, and - there is absolutely no use; it's going to be on the edge of her mind for _the rest of her goddamned life_. She throws herself into schoolwork and Prefect duties and tries to ignore the curiosity and thoughts of pouty (sensual, bitable) lips curved into an amused smirk.

A week later, a Death Eater attack occurs two streets over from her parents' house, and the fresh worry and panic is what finally succeeds in wiping it from her thoughts.

. ... .

November slides into December, and Lily is on the edge of breaking. Her parents - school - Prefect duties - and she just can't sleep. Her jaw hurts from being permanently and subconsciously clenched. She has a constant, throbbing tension headache, and the circles under her eyes now need to be hidden with a glamour to stop people from asking questions.

She snapped something - she can't really remember what - so vicious at Potter that he has actually been leaving her alone. It has lasted a week, and Lily can't help but hope that the new trend will continue. (The memory of his shocked, hurt face doesn't bother her. She has too many problems to care.)

This is the state she is in when Bellatrix runs across her.

She is sitting cross-legged in a hidden alcove, trying to be zen like she read in some book so that she won't snap or break into hysterical sobs over mashed potatoes during dinner. Her eyes are closed, and she is so tired. She knows sleep won't come.

She is zen. Calm. Floating. Blank.

And then there is an amused smirk so loud that she can see it and hear it and feel it. Her stomach clenches and her eyes snap open.

Lily stares into dark, bottomless eyes. She is in shock and blankblankblank, and she finds a word issuing from her (dirty, common) mouth: "Black."

Bellatrix leans her head back and surveys Lily lazily. Those dark, bottomless (fathomless) eyes are hooded and amused, like always (or maybe _always _has been transmuted to _when around Lily Evans _- maybe always is only sometimes, and maybe Lily knows nothing - and maybe Lily is the stupidest little girl ever and will play with fire again and again. Lily can't see into the future, but she should have an innate sense of self-preservation that would tell her to _fucking run and run and never look at Bellatrix Black again_. Of course, she doesn't. That's why...) and Lily can feel her throat closing up and her stomach clenching.

(Lily doesn't recognize it, but the look in Bellatrix Black's eyes is predatory. This is what Lily has been afraid for her parents for - the darkness and the cruelty and the wickedness that is innate in those mad, masked wizards. It is what lets them rape and murder and commit terrible acts that words aren't enough for - and Bellatrix has it in its infant stages.)

She gets the vibe that Bellatrix knows what Lily is feeling better than she herself does.

Three seconds after she thinks that, Bellatrix speaks to her for the first time. It is a...purr, and the words contained in that purr (and it takes Lily a second or so to comprehend them) are: "Evans. Whatever are you doing all alone in dark places?"

Lily blinks and flushes, stiffening defensively. "Not that it's any of your business, Black," she spits out, "but I'm simply trying to get a moment of quiet." And where has her zen gone? She is all bluff and bravado, on the edge and trying to hide it.

Bellatrix does not take this the way Lily thought she would. She - chuckles. She chuckles throatily and says, "Mmm. Quiet can be hard to come by in the Gryffindor common room, I would think."

Lily bristles at the subtle disdain lacing the word "Gryffindor". "Oh? Well, if you think so little of Gryffindors, you won't mind if I ask you to leave."

And this is where it gets a little stranger - this is where Bellatrix starts her trap. She steps closer and leans down, into Lily's personal space. She smirks again and says lazily, "Oh, but I would mind, Evans."

Lily is - she doesn't know what she is. She blinks again and shakes her head, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. "What do you want?" And she regrets the plaintive words the moment they leave her mouth.

That damnable smirk, and Lily is reminded of the abandoned classroom and the blonde and - Bellatrix's brow arches wickedly, invitingly, as the brunette says: "A date."

Lily stares. "...Oh."

"But we can get down to it right here, right now, if you like." She straightens and looks around the alcove critically. "It has...atmosphere."

In spite of herself, perhaps to spite herself, Lily says, "That seems a little crude for your tastes." And she wonders very seriously why she hasn't slapped the chit yet.

And then Bellatrix flashes a smile. Lily is suddenly very glad she is still sitting - that devastating smile seems to be a Black trait. "Evans, nothing is too crude when it comes to getting what you want."

The smile has sent her into shock. That is the only reason why Lily replies with, "And I'm what you want?"

Bellatrix falls gracefully into a crouch in front of her, and suddenly their faces are closer than they have ever been. She leans forward, her arms trapping Lily in, and Lily finds herself mesmerized by Bellatrix's gaze. Their lips are an inch apart when she (is wicked and tempting, and Lily is caught caught caught - so easily and too easily and why?) says, "Oh yes." Lily can feel the Slytherin's warm, sweet breath against her lips - they are sharing air, and then they are -

They are kissing. Soft and slick and lovely, and then there is tongue and it is wet and strong and -

This is the moment of Lily's future breaking.

She could have said no.

* * *

**A/N**: So I started writing this because Ashirashadow on LJ asked me for a BellaLily piece - that was actually a while ago (sorry!), but this mutated into...what you see before you. A multichap. It goes through phases, and BELIEVE ME: it gets pretty dark. It looks kind of sweet at the moment, but - hoo boy, is that going to change! I mean, come on. It's Bellatrix.

It's written on Ashira's request, but I've really got to dediate it to my fiancee: **Zhang Sizheng**. It's her engagement present. She only just started posting here (GO CHECK HER OUT - ON MY FAVORITES) and she is brilliant and I love her. She egged me along, talked me through some rough spots, and broke a block for me, and_ I love her_. Si-chan is my muse, and you must worship her. Worship!

(Also, beware her evilness. She lets me read her half-written works, gets me hooked, and then denies me the final version until posting. Can we say evil, kids? I knew we could.)


	2. This Is Your Future

**your zen is false**

Chapter Two

_An Interlude_

_. ... ._

Later, when Lily is bruised and scarred and can't even think of life without Bellatrix - later, when she is desperately caught and has been and knows it and loves Bellatrix and hates her and is indifferent and passionate and begging for more - she thinks of another world. She thinks of a Bellatrix who is not teetering the tightrope of madness, of a Bellatrix who isn't a sadist. (Of a Bellatrix who doesn't need to be a splendid actress because she actually feels things that are normal.) She thinks of a Lily Evans who isn't weak. She thinks of a world where Bellatrix Black doesn't hate and Lily Evans doesn't break. (That world is a dream, and she knows it.)

She thinks of a world where they mesh and it works and they are content. She thinks of a world where Bellatrix doesn't get off on the sight of her lover tied down and losing herself, where Lily doesn't get off on being controlled. (Lily doesn't think about the fact that this was trained into her. Bellatrix sees what she wants and takes it, and if what she wants isn't perfect yet, she'll make it. She is too good at mind games, and the psyche is so easily manipulated.)

She imagines a world where her lover's stunning eyes don't hold a twisted, calculating glint (and it grows steadily more twisted as time passes, but Lily pretends not to notice that). That world...

There, they are happy. It is love without the cruel obsession and sex without pain and - well, it is _happiness_!

(And maybe this dream is not happiness, but Lily doesn't know any better anyway.)

That world is a dream, and she knows it.

(She knows that Bellatrix will never have warm eyes or truthful smiles or an unfractured mind. She knows that Bellatrix will never call her beautiful and mean it.)

* * *

**A/N**: Again, **Zhang Sizheng** is a goddess. Dedicated to her and her lushness. I hate her for being straight.

And, yes - the next chapter will be much longer. This is just an interlude.


	3. This is Your Landing

**your zen is false**

Chapter Three

_A Vicious Plateau_

. ... .

She fucks Bellatrix Black - beautiful and clever and popular - for the first time during her sixth year. It is December, and the cold wind batters bitterly against the worn stone of the castle. Freezing drafts seem to follow her everywhere, and her hands are icy to the touch no matter what spell she uses.

But she doesn't really notice the chill when her hands are buried in Bellatrix's hair as her whatever-she-is (Lily can't bring herself to think the word 'girlfriend' quite yet - that involves thinking the word 'lesbian', and she really can't bring herself to do so. She already thinks too much, and she doesn't want to peruse old memories to find evidence that either proves or disproves...that. She already thinks too much, and Bellatrix is supposed to be her distraction. That is how Lily justifies it, anyway. Yes, she is that stubborn and desperate) presses her against walls and makes her whimper quietly into lush, smirking lips. Lily's own lips are almost constantly kiss-swollen and red.

No one notices. No one knows. (At least, no one Lily is acquainted with.)

No one knows, and Lily likes it that way. She doesn't know what Bellatrix thinks about it, but she trusts her not-girlfriend to follow her wishes in this (because she is a Gryffindor and she trusts all the wrong people. She always has - her mum once told her it would get her killed one day).

It (the fucking - though Lily would call it something else, that is all it will ever be to Bellatrix, and Lily does not understand her lover yet; does not understand what she has gotten herself into) happens for the first time over Christmas Break. Bellatrix moves quickly, and Lily has no defences. (Potter never tried that angle. Later - later later later - she wishes that he had, just so she could have stood a chance.)

It goes like this: they are kissing, liquid and heat and in the same alcove where they first spoke, coincidentally enough. Lily recognizes nothing but the taste and the slick movement, and she is too entranced to protest when Bellatrix slowly unbuttons her robes. She moans, loud and desperate, when Bellatrix's thigh slides between hers and _up_, and Bellatrix bites Lily's lower lip as she does it. The kiss breaks off as Lily starts panting heavily, whimpering just a little (enough to let Bellatrix think privately that, yes, she chose correctly), and her head falls back, hitting the wall with a crack, as Bellatrix moves her thigh harder and faster and - gods, the world is blurring. Lily grinds down mindlessly, meeting Bellatrix movement for movement, and slumps against the wall and whines throatily when her not-girlfriend is suddenly not touching her. She blinks rapidly and opens her mouth to (not beg) ask (in a very unclear way) what is going on, but then Bellatrix is touching her again and unbuttoning her slacks and Lily can't stop the moan as she helps to take them off. Her knickers nearly go with them in her haste, but Bellatrix smirks (Lily doesn't see it) and ghosts her fingers lightly over the plain white cotton. Lily shudders and nearly slides down the wall as her knees get weak, but Bellatrix is suddenly holding her up and her elegant, aristocratic fingers are _inside _her knickers and _stroking _like - like the indescribable. Lily slams her head against the wall as she screams, and then her mouth finds Bellatrix's - only Bellatrix sucks her tongue for only a moment before trailing that wicked mouth down her pale neck to her shoulder and _biting_ -

Right as her lover's fingers are inside and outside and stroking and caressing, and nothing should feel this good; she is falling and blinded and -

(Only the devil tastes so good.)

. ... .

January. She is closer to seventeen now than sixteen, and she forgets to count her wisdoms in the midst of the whirling fugue that is Bellatrix. Her lover fascinates and entrances her, and she loves it when Bellatrix plays her unique little games. They are mind games - power games, and isn't it so novel for Lily to actually grasp power? (She is powerless, usually - Prefect or no.) She loves it. She loves the perpetually half-lidded eyes of her lover that survey everything, judging (and Lily managed to draw her interest? That is power) and languid - she loves the way their bodies move and the way Bellatrix tastes and the way she can taste her lover, drive her wild (but that is so rare. Bellatrix so rarely allows that).

She loves how life is an amusing game to Bellatrix Black. She finds it so much easier to look at it that way rather than care and kill herself with worry and stress. So life is a game.

"I like your games," she voices lazily. They are lying - well, _Lily_ is lying naked on a Transfigured bed in another abandoned classroom, staring at the ceiling blissfully; Bellatrix is traipsing lazily across the room and retrieving miscellaneous articles of clothing. She looks back at Lily when she hears the redhead's words.

And then she smiles (like a cougar would smile, no one at all thinks) and says, "You like my games, lovely?"

Too satisfied to feel irritated, Lily replies with only a hint of sarcasm. "Well, yes. That _is _what I said."

She hears Bellatrix padding across the stone floor and turns her head to meet Bellatrix's gaze. "Well, lovely Lily," she says, crawling over the bed and kneeling between Lily's still spread knees, "how would you like to play a new one?"

She leans over and kisses Lily - skillfully but lazily, and she doesn't understand how this is new - but then Bellatrix slips her hand between warm folds and rakes her other hand viciously down Lily's outer thigh. Lily's hips jerk in reflex and she screams into Bellatrix's mouth - and Sweet Mother does that feel good. She pumps her hips and ignores the liquid warmth trickling down her leg, spiraling into hazy pleasurepain.

It is the start of something else, and Lily was never very wise in the first place (just beautiful and clever and popular. She fears but not for herself, and she doesn't understand the wicked like she thinks she does. Foolish child).

January. She is closer to seventeen now than sixteen, and she forgets to count her wisdoms (however few they are, they might have sa - ) in the midst of the whirling fugue that is Bellatrix.

_. ... ._

_It isn't the fall that kills you_, Lily read somewhere one beautiful summer day. _It's the landing_.

It is February now, and she doesn't think about this. She looks at her robe-covered, rope-torn wrists as if she can see through the thick cloth and doesn't think about it.

But she really does think about this (_not the fall_) because she is thinking about how Bellatrix was always so fascinating and entrancing and playful in the beginning and how now - well, now her hips are bruised and there are cuts in fanciful shapes decorating her thighs (_the landing_). The gloss has been bled off, and Lily (_not the fall it's the landing_) is still there.

She didn't know why at first - and she still doesn't - but she is (addicted) in love (with pain and darkness) and she trusts Bellatrix (she trusts all the wrong people) not to take it too far. (And this is her: controlling the fear and the darkness and the fear of darkness by having decidedly rough sex with the closest thing to the personification of darkness she can find - because headaches are so debilitating and circled eyes cause questions and her parents could be killed at any time. She thinks too much, so she has decided not to think. So _foolish_.)

See, she is past the point of saying no. That point was a long time ago, and it was part of the story. There are so many stories, and Lily's choice was quietly and blindly made in that dark, dusty alcove that didn't matter - and shouldn't that mean that everything created there didn't matter? So she had never been worried, and she didn't even know that there was a choice. She still doesn't.

Choices like that don't exist to her. (She can't understand that perhaps there will be consequences - she is afraid for her parents, you see, but she still has a child's belief in her own immortality. Nothing can harm her, and she doesn't realize that she thinks like that.) All that exists is the present, and she isn't going to think about it because she thinks too much - and her parents could be killed at any time.

There is no thought of saying no. Not anymore - and as Bellatrix leads her into the dungeons, robe pockets clinking lightly as heavy handcuffs and new toys collide, Lily follows as if blindfolded.

(As if blind, and this - this tonight is when everything changes.)

And then they are in one of those mysterious rooms that Hogwarts produces only on the third Thursday when someone giggles four times, and Bellatrix still hasn't looked at her.

Lily is uncertain - is her lover angry? So she says, against her better judgement, "Bellat - "

And Bellatrix has thrown her against the wall before she even finishes saying her name (that rolls off the tongue like diamonds, cold and sharp and beautiful beyond anything - beyond beyond beyond). Her red curls fly, glinting in the torchlight, and her skull collides with the stones and makes an awful sound.

(Bellatrix is crazy strong - and almost crazy, but not yet.)

When Lily can see again (when the lights have mostly stopped flashing and she is only seeing two of everything instead of five) she sees Bellatrix's tall, magnificent figure standing over her. Her eyes are cold and half-lidded, staring down at her, and her pouty (sensual, bitable) lips are stretched into an ugly smile (...and isn't this going a little far?). "Who - " kick "are you - " kick "to call me by my name?"

Lily is curled up in a ball now, turned on and losing herself in the pain. (No, not too far. Bellatrix knows what she's doing, surely. Lily trusts her.) She pants out her line: "Nothing. I'm nothing. Just a Mudblood."

(How has it come to this? How has she come to this? She doesn't know and doesn't think about it because it's all in fun, see. It's just some pain to put an edge on the maddening pleasure, and she enjoys it. She could say no.)

Bellatrix pulls her up by her hair (and the blood blends in with the fiery red, so no problem) and the world is shifting and the only solid is Bellatrix. Lily feels something warm along her hairline and that is Bellatrix's tongue licking away blood. "Yes," she says. "That is all you are. Get on the bed, lovely."

And the world is tilting and the pain is everything, but she trusts Bellatrix to turn it all into pleasure. She stumbles to the bed.

She blacks out for a moment. When she comes to herself, there is cold metal encircling her ragged wrists. There is cold metal touching her stomach, and Lily looks down (ignoring the dizziness) to see Bellatrix straddling her and lazily cutting away her blouse with a dagger.

(This dagger is special - it is Bellatrix's favorite, and she always uses it for blood play.)

The brunette sees Lily looking at her and, with a smirk, slices her bra with a flick of her elegant right wrist. "Lily." Usually when Bellatrix says her name, it drips with _you-are-mine_ and _you-are-nothing_ and _obey-me-now_. Now, though - now all that is there is indifference, and for the first time Lily gets the sense that she is worthless. It had always been role-play to her, but now - now it isn't?

She doesn't have time to examine it, however, because then Bellatrix's warm weight is gone and so are her slacks - and her vision goes black for a second, but when it comes back she sees - Bellatrix and a strap-on that is impossibly large.

For the first time, a hint of fear cuts through the pain and lust. For the first time, she is sensible. For the first time - but she doesn't say no.

She could have said no, but it isn't an option to a big girl like her. (That word is not in her vocabulary in regards to Bellatrix. And would Bellatrix even listen...?)

But she could have said no.

. ... .

She wakes up the next morning alone (only Bellatrix is usually there with bandages and potions and aristocratic sarcasm, and why isn't she this time?) and still chained to the bed. The previous night is a blur, and the throbbing in her head is worse than any of the tension migraines she still sometimes gets. (They mostly stopped when she and Bellatrix...started. She is smart enough that she could realize that this is because she was letting out her stress, but she is weak Lily Evans and doesn't think on it. Avoidance is such a beautiful thing, isn't it?)

It takes her a long, cold half hour to get out of the handcuffs, and that is at the cost of a little blood magic that a Gryffindor shouldn't know. She tries to sit up before giving up on that right quick. Her entire body _hurts_. There - there aren't any words for the utter pain she is in. The formerly white sheet is sticking to the dried cuts on her back (when did those happen?), and it takes fifteen long, painful minutes to try to peel it away gently. In the end, she gives up (her head is in agony) and rips the sheet away without a sound - she doesn't scream only because she is beyond that at the moment. Warm blood runs down her back, and she waits a few seconds before she tries to stand up again.

Zen. Zen. She is zen. Calm. White. Floating. Blank. Pain is nothing.

She stands - and immediately collapses to the floor.

The world goes black.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay. This is them doing bondage and S&M _all wrong_ - it's not like that and it shouldn't be like that. It has a bad rep, but with trust and full knowledge and consent, it's a perfectly good thing. Here, Bellatrix is simply mad and without finesse and - well, that would be giving things away (and if you can't read the writing on the wall, you don't deserve tits). But: YES, she is going too far.

In any case, I adore the next part. (cackles) I think you lot will too, in which case you should offer thanks to Si-chan (**Zhang Sizheng**) for wanting it.

In closing, concrit is much appreciated. If you really feel like being lazy, copypasting a favorite line or something would be appreciated as well. - Everyone's support has been absolutely brill, just so you know. Thank you!


	4. This Is Your Pain

**your zen is false**

Chapter Four

_A Step Back_

. ... .

When Lily regains consciousness, she doesn't know how much time has passed. All she knows is that she is lying in a pool of dried blood and the air still hurts. She crawls to a nearby chair and pulls herself up - and the cuts on her back break open again. She ignores it because she is really starting to get used to the pain and she is zen. Zen.

She manages to stand this time, even though there is a lot of trembling and swaying involved, and she notices for the first time the dark brown that is streaking her inner thighs. She stares at it, puzzled, and touches it tentatively with her fingers. The brown flakes off, and -

Oh. _That's_ why it hurts down there.

She very decisively does not think about it. She searches for her clothes and finds them in tatters, but her robe is mostly alright so she slides it on, wincing as the coarse fabric brushes against her abused back. She slips her shoes on sluggishly and takes a moment to lean against the wall (that is stained with a small amount of her blood) and catch her breath before she leaves the room.

What she catches is a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She doesn't even recognize herself at first. She is in the midst of thinking up an explanation for the blood and torn pieces of clothing still littering the floor when she recognizes her own distinctive hair.

Oh. She stares at her pale, bruised face and wonders for the first time what they are doing. She wonders what the hell got into Bellatrix last night, because it had never been like that before, and she can't remember much but what she does remember does not include the usual redeeming, mind-numbing pleasure. Part of the story is missing, and why...?

She suddenly gets the urge to break the mirror.

Instead, she quietly pushes off the wall and limps to the door. It shuts behind her with a subtle thump.

. ... .

It is a fifteen minute walk through the dungeons. She doesn't know her way around, though - that is why Bellatrix always brings her - and she has been wandering for forty-three minutes when she runs into the last person in the world she wants to see at the moment. She is already in pain, and why does she deserve more? _Fuck you too, God_ is what she thinks when she sees him. (It's not like she hasn't been losing faith since age eleven, though, so the thought is not biting and acidic like it should be - like she wants it to be. It is tired and habitual and a little bitter.)

Severus.

She is dizzy and wishing for a numbing potion and limping heavily. The constant movement keeps breaking the cuts on her back open, and the blood loss is being really inconvenient. Why did Bellatrix leave her there alone? (Why did she go so far? Doubts are creeping through Lily's mind, but she is in too much pain to really care at the moment. She pushes them away. Later. She'll think about it later, she tells herself.)

So, yes. Severus is the last person in the entire universe she wants to see. He is clever and observant and too brilliant for her to lie to, and she loves him even though he betrayed her. He was her best friend, after all, and - fuck, it hurts to look at him.

She is glad the dungeons are so badly lit. He can't see what she saw in the mirror.

But the lighting isn't so bad that he doesn't recognize her. "Lily - " and he looks worried for an instant; he _must _be worried if he's calling her by her first name, "what are you doing down here?" He seems to recover himself. "Do all Gryffindors have a death wish, Evans?" There is a half-hearted sneer in his voice, but she knows him too well.

It hurts her heart to look at him, so she focuses on the pretty starbursts in the air between them. "Severus," she greets, and her voice is faint but not obviously so. "How have you been?"

He stares at her. "This is not," he says, his tone faintly incredulous, "the time for polite chitchat. This is the time for you to get the hell out of Slytherin territory before Lestrange and Avery find you. They have a nose for Mu-ggleborns."

"Why, Severus, I didn't know you cared." The sarcasm is palpable in the air - _who betrayed whom?_ - and Lily does notice the way he stumbled over 'Muggleborn.' She doesn't say anything about it, though, and maybe Bellatrix is having more of an influence on her than she thought? _No_, she tells herself. _No. Bellatrix doesn't really feel that way. She just got overenthusiastic about the game._

Severus flinches in the wake of the silence. "I don't," he snaps gruffly. "But I don't feel like watching you be played with."

"Oh, Severus." And she laughs - it isn't the laugh that he knows. He does not recognize this laugh. He looks closer and does not recognize this girl. ...Is that a bruise? His scrutiny is interrupted when she finally stops that awful sound and says, "It's all a game, lovely."

His eyes narrow, and Lily knows that she has just screwed herself to the wall because those are Bellatrix's words and he may know that. She interrupts his thoughts quickly with: "Show me the way out?"

He looks at her again, dark, bottomless (fathomless) eyes unreadable (and she used to fall into those eyes and bask in the warmth, and she trusted him but she trusts all the wrong people - all the weak people, the selfish people who don't give enough of a fuck), before nodding sharply. "Come with me."

She almost gets away with it. But then - then he grabs her shoulder (because he is secretly in love with her and he can't stop himself from touching her one more time - one last time, he swears to himself) and she stiffens. There is a sound that is almost a whimper but not quite, and he pulls his hand away, horrified and confused.

"Lily - "

She glares at him, suddenly furious. "Don't," she hisses. What goes unsaid is: _You cut your ties and chose your side and - and you _chose_, and what you chose was not me._

He stares for a split-second and finds that he cannot meet her eyes anymore. He turns around curtly and says in a cold voice, "Follow me."

She has managed to get hopelessly lost, so it takes twenty minutes to reach a secret passageway that leads to the second floor. She leaves Severus without a word and heads to the Prefects Bathroom.

He stands in the half-light of the open passageway and looks at the dried blood staining his hand. Lily's blood. (Muddy blood.)

(_It's all a game, lovely_.)

But he had chosen, and what he had chosen was not her.

* * *

**A/N**: I like this chapter, but it may just be me. Is it?


	5. This Is Your Falsity

**your zen is false**

Chapter Five

_An Ending_

. ... .

Severus knows and Severus doesn't say anything. Severus knows and Severus doesn't try to help her. Not that she needs to be helped - she knows what she is doing, after all - but the situation would look bad to the uninformed eye.

But Severus knows and Severus hasn't said anything, and this more than anything allows Lily to shove aside those doubts (too far and too much). She doesn't catch Bellatrix's wrist and have a chat with her about maybe cooling it a little.

(This - not telling Bellatrix to chill - is the wrong thing to do, and maybe her subconscious decides not to talk with her lover just to spite Severus. Maybe it is a little self-destructive - maybe she has finally realized that they're doing it all wrong - but maybe she doesn't have anything else anyway, figures that she might as well stick with it. Maybe she knows that Bellatrix is/has breaking/broken her, and maybe she wants to feel more things crack and to believe that it is okay not to have control over anything. Maybe maybe maybe. She doesn't know.)

(Lily - clever, intellectual Lily - doesn't know anything.)

So they continue, and she is actually a little glad when she stops seeing Severus - no, Snape. When she stops seeing Snape in the halls on the way to classes.

As February turns into March, she directs all attention to her lover. She wants more, and - and she doesn't particularly care if Bellatrix really is going too far. She simply makes sure to filch some of the stronger healing potions from Slughorn's stores and becomes very proficient with seamstressing charms.

She doesn't care about the lack of emotion in Bellatrix's face and eyes when she looks at her - she wants the aristocrat and wants what only she can give her. Lily wants the painpleasure and the lack of line between it, and she is desperately caught and has been and knows it and loves Bellatrix and hates her and is indifferent and passionate and begging for more.

(This is when she dreams of another world.)

. ... .

April.

This is when Bellatrix lets her go. This is when - this is when everything that was already crumpled and warped falls apart.

Here is the scene: it is five minutes before curfew and they are in the hallway near the kitchens. They haven't fucked (and even Lily doesn't bother to call it anything but that anymore - even though she loves Bellatrix, that love is as twisted as her lover) yet tonight, but Lily is hungry because she missed dinner so that she could finish an essential essay. (She hasn't been doing badly in classes, per se, but she isn't doing brilliantly like she used to.)

So they are walking, and then Bellatrix suddenly stops. Lily looks at her enquiringly.

"Bellatrix?"

"I'm going to head back, I believe." A cold voice. Confident, high class, and about to break her heart.

"I - " And there is a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's been fun, mudblood," Bellatrix drawls, looking her in the eyes brazenly and uncaringly. Lily sees boredom and disdain and madness - and that has all been there before, so why why why now?

(This is when - )

And Lily - and she doesn't know what to say, because she should have seen this coming like she saw the indifference in her lover's eyes (like anyone could have been there - like she wasn't a person, just something to bleed and fuck), but -

(This is when: _the landing_.)

Lily has no words. The world has muted out and taken her tongue with it. This is madness. Madness. Madness. Bellatrix is simply on one of her far more frequent spells of insanity, only: "It's all a game, lovely." Her pouty (sensual, bitable) lips curve into an amused smirk. She leans in close - too close, close enough to kiss - and "You've given up, and that makes it no fun" is husky against Lily's mouth.

One two three seconds: Bellatrix Black is gone. Lily - her vision goes grey, and when she comes back to herself she doesn't know how many hours it has been. All she knows is that she is stiff and the stone against her back is freezing - and she is sitting against the wall even though she doesn't know how she has gotten there. She stares at her hands for a moment. She can't feel them. They are so cold.

She stares stares stares - and then she turns her head and retches.

_Zen. Empty. Blank. Calm._

The taste of pure bile is thorough and lingering, but Lily does not finish the walk to the kitchens. She mechanically makes her way through meandering halls and up moving staircases, and she finds herself at the Gryffindor entrance. (This is home. The word doesn't mean as much as it did when she was a child.)

The Fat Lady is fixing her cleavage. Lily doesn't notice. Her mouth moves and says, "Boleyn." The Fat Lady looks up, surprised someone is out, and begins stuttering as the portrait swings open. Lily doesn't listen. She steps through the portrait hole jerkily and - and she stands there, looking at nothing.

There is something to look at, however.

James Potter.

She doesn't register him, but he is alone for once, sitting on a couch and staring into the fire moodily. His hair is messy in a different way than it usually is, and the expression on his face is tired and thoughtful. He isn't out of it enough to not notice Lily, though, and the pinched draw of his eyes and mouth lighten as he catches sight of her. There is a little bit of wariness there, as well. (Because words can tear and eat things that really need to be destroyed - and some things that don't - and maybe he has grown up a bit. Maybe the words Lily can't remember saying have saved a lot of things - and maybe James has given those words power.)

He realizes that she isn't seeing him. He realizes that something is wrong. (And, yes - yes, he has changed.) Five months ago, he wouldn't have noticed. Five months ago, he would have jumped up and called her Lilyflower and the redhead would have slapped him. But they have both changed - maybe for the worse - and this time he does something right.

He calls her name quietly. "Lily."

She doesn't hear - and then she does. Her eyes focus on him, and she doesn't even have the presence of mind to scowl. What - what has happened? Where has Lily Evans gone? (She has been torn and eaten by words and actions, by time and madness and darkness.)

(Words and actions and time and madness and darkness - and she didn't even manage a word when her lover left her. Bellatrix, you have broken her down so skillfully.)

"Oh," she says dully. "Potter." She is lost. She is so lost (without the promise of the physical to take it away - without a promise of darkness to lose herself in, where it is okay that she isn't in control).

And James doesn't really recognize this (because he has grown up but not that much and he is still so innocent), but he knows that _something is wrong_, and that is all he needs to know. So he smiles instead of grinning wildly and beckons her over to his couch.

And - and she actually goes. (Wrong, wrong, wrong - not Lily Evans, but what can anyone do about it?) They sit in silence. The fire crackles and the shadows dance, and her hands are so cold. (She is used to this. So used to this. Zen zen zen - she has to find her zen.)

They sit. Lily doesn't even know for how long, and then James breaks the stillness by pulling out his wand.

"What - "

He hands her a cup of hot chocolate and smiles at her again. "It's conjured, so it won't last for too long, but something hot tastes good going down on a night like this."

And - nothing. She doesn't blink back tears. She is too weak to cry. It isn't like she ever truly had Bellatrix, so she hasn't lost anything she didn't give away in the first place. Bellatrix had her - and that is the problem. She is lost. She gave too much and hasn't gotten the bits of herself back and never will. (Bellatrix is selfish - and Lily always trusts all the wrong people, the selfish people who don't give enough of a fuck. Bellatrix will keep them carelessly and cruelly, not caring, and isn't that just Bellatrix Black in a nutshell?)

She looks at him, and then she looks at the mug he has pressed into her hands. She wraps her fingers around the warm ceramic and looks at him again. "...Thank you."

Surprise moves across his face, quickly followed by happiness. His emotions are as easy to read as a billboard. "Not a problem." There is a pause. "...Lily, what's wrong? You haven't been the same lately." He sees her still expression and backtracks quickly. "Not that I'm trying to pry or anything, but - " He falls into silence, features collapsed into the very definition of 'torn', and quickly spits out: "I'm worried."

She stares. It is such a novel idea that someone is worried about her. (And when did she get too used to that?) She knows he fancies himself in love with her. She knows (a lot of useless things because she is such a clever girl) that he wants her - that he wants Lily Evans, fiery and contrary and a little bit arrogant. And she isn't that Lily Evans anymore, but she thinks she can pretend if that means that she can have - what James Potter represents. (Bellatrix would know that she is pretending, but he won't.)

She wants someone safe and sweet and light and concerned, and, really, two out of four isn't so bad - and he has changed, too, so obviously. She could say _yes_ to him. She thinks that she could pretend. She thinks she could, with the passing of time, rebuild some things (necessary, human things inside of her) that have been ruins for too long. She thinks that she is tired of looking for that something in all the wrong places.

And it really isn't fair to him, but she (is weak and selfish and more broken than she used to be) thinks that he won't know the difference. (He won't.)

She turns her gaze back to her untouched hot chocolate and says, "Potter, you're such a ponce." And smiles a little (falsely) as he begins to sputter.

She feels the scars on her back and thighs burn and thinks she can pretend.

(Bellatrix, you teach so well.)

. ... .

She doesn't have all the answers. She doesn't.

Lily is sixteen years and eleven months old. She is beautiful and clever and popular (and tired and worn like an old dishrag) - and she has no answers to war and the war-torn and hate and the hate-consumed.

She has no answers, and she is lost and fractured and really good at pretending she is not.

She has to be.

* * *

**A/N**: The end! Voila! What do you think? Again, Si-chan (**Zhang Sizheng**) is beyond excellent. She gives really great opinions. And jumpstarts. Snape, for example. She asked for him, and it made me go all starry-eyed and do the maniacal-glint thing. My gorgeous fiancee is so made of win. She also put in a few really great lines and generally encouraged me when I was blocked and doing the insomniac deal.

You know, I think I actually wrote something that is almost DH compliant. Huh. Go figure. In other news, well-written reviews make me do jigs. Naked.

...Something tells me that that won't make you lot review. (sniffs) Well, that's just because you don't know any better. So...aha! I'll give the randomly numbered (seventh, tenth, eleventh, who knows?) reviewer for this chapter a huge reward fic. I like hearing what I did right, what I did wrong, and if you have a favorite line.

**Edit 1/19/10:** To anyone interested out there - my story _Gesellschaft_? Well, it's in this universe, only there's less taboo subject matter - oops, that's a lie. Less blatant deviancy? ...Well, there's no bondage. Set around Severus and Ginny, it's a fairly gritty post-war AU that I'd really appreciate feedback on. Kind of a study on non-romance? Eh. Whatevskies.


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